


Of Cuddles and Tales

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [3]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/M, Family Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Some pining, Then Tom messes up, mentions of accidents and fatalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: The roles are reversed in this one. Charlie had a few shitty hours in the hospital, and she goes to Tom and Evie for comfort.





	Of Cuddles and Tales

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite the time jump (a few months probably). At some point we're going to write some in-betweens.

 

“You’re late!”

It’s little Evie Hiddleston’s voice that greets Charlie at the front door. Charlie blinks and looks down a little confused. Why is the almost five-year-old alone at the door?

But then again, Charlie doesn’t know what’s real and fake today anyway, probably due to the lack of sleep in these past 36 hours.

It’s been hours of hell. 36 hours in the hospital. A bus accident with lots of children, some of them fine, many of them with bad cuts and broken bones, and two that didn’t make it. She’s no surgeon, but she’s worked on those children. And told their parents.

Charlie is dead on her feet. She’s tired like never before - not since her residency at least - and she’s so emotional, she doesn’t know how she’ll even manage a tiny smile.

“Why are you answering the door?”

“Daddy’s in the loo,” the little girl answers with a sense of ‘duh, obviously’. “He’s all fit-giddy.”

Huh? Oh. Charlie cracks a small smile for the first time in what feels like days. “Fidgety, dear,” she says softly.

But why though? He’s not drunk again, right? It’s close to one year now since Emily, and Charlie hopes he’s going to cope.

“Yes. Fit-giddy. Because you’re late and he’s worrying.”

Oh.

Before Charlie can answer - or even come in - Tom’s voice is heard from the hall behind Evie. “Evelyn Diana Hiddleston! What did we say about doors?”

A second later, while Charlie smothers a half-smile at Evie’s guilty face, Tom appears. He must’ve hurried when he heard them because he’s hopping-walking a bit awkwardly while shoving the tails of his white button-down shirt back into his faded jeans.

She’s almost too exhausted to stare at the sliver of belly peaking at her before he’s done.

He turns a stern look on his daughter, who’s now the fidgety one.

“If you ever do that again, I’ll refuse to read you a bedtime story in the evening, little miss “I’m not afraid of anything”, do you hear me? I know that you know it’s Charlie at the door, but it’s always possible that it’s someone else.”

With a pout, but seeming shaken enough by the threat, Evie nods. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Tom huffs, but then melts a little to tousle her hair. When he lifts his gaze to Charlie still in the doorway and swaying a bit, his expression registers shock and concern.

“Why, Charlie, you look like hell.” The next moment, he slaps a hand over his mouth. ”Shit, that came out all wrong. I mean… I…uh…”

Evie is giggling (probably at the bad word as much as at his flustered mortification), and she would be too if she had an ounce of strength and joy left inside her. Which she doesn’t.

“I  _feel_ like hell,” she croaks out.

He’s never seen her like this before. Tired, sure, but Charlie’s always their - Tom and Evie’s - strength it seems. Always helping, always a smile on her face.

But now she’s late for their dinner with Evie and she also looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Also, there’s something very strange in her eyes. Oh, and she feels like it, apparently.

“I didn’t mean it like that, obviously,” Tom tries to backtrack, though he indeed did mean that. He just shouldn’t say it like that.

Evie’s still giggling, already forgetting her stern father from just seconds before.

“’s okay.” That’s all the reply he gets. Something must be very wrong. Is she also swaying? What the hell happened?

“Come iiiiiin,” Evie whines and as if Charlie wakes up from some sort of trance, she blinks, then takes a few steps before closing the door, leaning heavily against it, stumbling almost.

“What happened?” Tom exclaims, not able to keep the words in, again, and rushing close to her. Not quite touching, but near her, in case she falls.

Charlie registers the stark concern on his face, even slight panic.

She’s usually the one showing support to him and Evie, the strong one. Heck, she’s always that one, on the job and outside of it.

But today, she doesn’t want to. She wants to be weak and weepy and she wants a shoulder to lean on. She’s got no idea whether that’s fair to Tom. Whether it’ll make him run for the hills because he’s still overcoming his own tragedy. But they’re friends, right?

Part of her dead brain told her to simply cancel this dinner and soak in the tub and eat two pints of ice cream to pamper herself. But then she thought of Evie’s disappointment and of Tom worrying…and of how great of a hugger he probably is when he lets his guard down…and so here she is.

“I… It’s a long story. I just…I need…”

It’s as if the word “need” from her mouth triggers something in Tom, perhaps the same thing that makes him such a caring father when he’s not drunk to cope (which he isn’t anymore).

“C’mon. Let’s get you settled first. Tell me what it is you need.”

He’s got a hand on her waist to guide her, and that’s a welcome surprise.

“I need… comfort. And food. Comfort food.” It sounds ridiculous, and normally Charlie would know that, but tonight she doesn’t care.

Tom is next to her, guiding her a bit, and chuckles. “Good that you’ve come over for dinner then.”

He leads her into the living-room, Evie trailing behind. When she sits down on the very comfortable sofa, Charlie can see in Tom’s face that he wants to know more. He’s probably afraid to ask.

Charlie tries a small, encouraging smile, but even she can feel it’s not working.

“Evie,” Tom says, “you sit with Charlie, I get the food out.” With that he leaves for the kitchen before Charlie can protest.

Instead, she’s got a little ball of energy in her lap immediately, playing with the hem of Charlie’s shirt. “Can we play with Boots later?”

She wants to say yes. So much. But she somehow can’t. “We’ll see if he’s awake later, okay?”

Tom is back in an instant, not even carrying any dishes or food. He bends–well, will you look at that, she’s not too exhausted after all to notice how nicely his shirt stretches over his muscles when he scoops Evie off her lap and into his arms–and talks to his once again pouting child.

“Sweetheart, you can see that Charlie is reeeeeally tired today, right? And she’s also really late, right?”

His daughter nods while Charlie wonders what he’s up to.

“So that means there’s a reason for all this. And that reason means Charlie isn’t feeling so well. Remember when you had the flu two months ago?”

Evie nods and grimaces, and Charlie can feel herself grimace too. Yup, she remembers that. Vividly. The hours of exhausted crying, the puking and endless sponge baths, forcing medicine on her, watching Tom lose his shit roughly ten times a day but still lovingly take care of his daughter. She was there only sporadically to help out, but felt drained nevertheless.

“So is Charlie having the flu?”

“No, Evie, but she feels somewhat like you when you had it. And what did you want when you were sick?”

“Cuddles. Sleep. You.”

Well. Tom looks flummoxed for a moment, then blushes a little and clears his throat.

“Yeah. And you also wanted to be left in peace, didn’t you? To just sit and rest?”

At Evie’s nod, he nudges her cheek with his. “Then that’s what we’ll give Charlie now, okay? Don’t ask her to talk or play just now, Evie. Let us pamper her a bit.”

“M’kay.”

Tom sets her back down and returns to the kitchen, and Charlie slumps into the couch, resting her head back.

She closes her eyes and hears the pitter-patter of running feet. A while later, she feels something on her lap and cracks an eye open. Evie has brought her fluffy blanket and favourite teddy and is gently placing both closeby.

Charlie sniffles and works up a tremulous smile for the little angel.

* * *

And that’s the sight that greets Tom when he returns to the living-room with a tray and three plates. Charlie resting against the back of the sofa with Evie right next to her, tugged to the doctor’s side, one small hand resting on Charlie’s thigh.

As if Tom knew, he’s made Spaghetti Bolognese and if that’s not comfort food, he doesn’t know what is.

He’s made an extra batch for Evie, red wine isn’t the best ingredient for a child. But he feels like Charlie could need it. That, and ice cream probably.

Tom balances the tray to the small table, Evie immediately alert to the smell and the food. She is his child after all.

“We have to move to the big table, daddy.”

But he shakes his head. It’s a special occasion tonight. Or at least it feels like it. “We’re eating on the sofa, Evie.” He stops when he sees his daughter getting all giddy. “But only if you promise me to behave and eat very carefully.”

She nods, wide-eyed, and then Charlie seems to realise he’s back as well.

“Tom, we don’t… you don’t…”

He can imagine what she wants to say, and she’s wrong. She’s done so much for them. Even though he doesn’t want to see Charlie suffer, Tom is almost glad he can do something for her for once.

“We do, and I do,” he replies firmly, and settles himself on Charlie’s other side. “And here’s the comfort food.”

* * *

At first, Charlie thinks she won’t be able to get even a bite down. She’s too tired to eat and the food will probably taste like sawdust and rusty nails anyway because she can’t get those images out of her head.

But Evie is giving her that expectant, earnest look, and Tom seems adorably eager to care.

And so she takes a bite, chews and swallows. And repeats the action.

Before she knows it, she’s not only worked her way through the whole plate of spaghetti but is also wolfing down sinfully tasty ice cream.

Tom hasn’t asked any questions. He’s keeping up a soft, steady flow of one-sided conversation, his voice quiet and reassuring as he talks about his sister Sarah’s kid and their school field trip to a plant nusery.

Charlie realizes that this is exactly what she needs. To hear about happy, uninjured children. To have this comfortable dinner and know deep down that there’s someone who cares, who doesn’t demand or judge.

Tom really is pretty perfect. Sometimes.

* * *

Well, more than sometimes. Most often. Of course, the beginning was less than perfect but to be fair, he probably coped as well as he could.

And now he’s sitting next to her, the plates empty, and the quiet chatter between Tom and Evie almost lulls Charlie to sleep.

After placing everything back on the tray, she leans back again. It’s a little strange for her, being the one being cared for.

Tom shot her a few glances during dinner, Charlie could feel that. But there’s no way she’s going to answer his questions with Evie right next to them.

But when Evie exclaims, “I need the loo,” and Tom answers with a, “Call when you’re finished,” the little girl shoots up from the sofa.

Now, they’re alone. And Tom looks like he’s on a first date or something - not that Charlie ever imagined what he would look like then. He’s not meeting her eyes while at the same time trying to, it looks like.

“Ask away,” Charlie mumbles and Tom blushes because he’s been caught apparently.

He’s surprised by how much he liked taking care of Charlie for once, instead of being taken care of. It brings back memories while at the same time feeling totally new.

And why does it make his heart tug painfully to see her so downcast and exhausted?

He’s been wondering all during dinner what it could be and wether he should or shouldn’t ask.

“Hard day?” he finally wants to know.

“Make that hard day and a half.”

Blinking, he turns further toward her, flinching at the big, dark circles under her usually so vivid and beautiful eyes.

“Charlie…” Because he still doesn’t know how much to prod, he acts on instinct, remembering what a touchy-feely person he used to be.

He lays a hand on her knee, and the small gesture seems to break a dam. Suddenly she’s leaning against him and shuddering, though he can’t make out any tears.

“God, Tom, their brave little faces. And the screams. And the boy with the leg that had to be amputed. I…God, Tom.”

And so he hugs her.

* * *

She guesses she’s too exhausted to cry. Or maybe she’s going to cry from exhaustion? Charlie doesn’t know at this point, but she does know that Tom smells good.

Not in a “you’ve got a very nice aftershave”-kind of way. But in a way that feels like she’s finally home and can let go. And most importantly talk about what has happened these last two days.

Automatically, Charlie’s arms wrap around Tom’s waist as he’s holding her around her shoulders. She buries her face in Tom’s chest. Taking deep breaths.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Bus accident,” is all she mumbles back, and it’s enough to make Tom go stiff. She clears her throat, a lump suddenly forming despite her tiredness. “Two didn’t make it. And… and…”

She can’t continue, shudders again instead. And then she feels Tom shudder as well and his hand travelling down her spine and up again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

This. This is what she’s yearned for the past hours, not even knowing it.

A tiny functional part of her brain realizes that talking about fatal accidents with Tom of all people isn’t such a good idea, so she stops there. But his soothing stroking continues, and after a while, he asks softly, “Tell me about those who made it.”

And with a start, Charlie realizes something else: Tom knows exactly what she needs right now. To focus on the good, to let it go, to have someone there for her.

And so she talks about the one girl who played big sis to the others and held their trembling hands. And about the boy whose eyesight they saved despite a glass splinter. She’s still mumbling against his chest, her hands now fisted in his shirt and his free hand in her hair, just holding her close while he keeps stroking her back.

“Daddy? ‘m do-one.”

They jump apart like teenagers caught kissing at Evie’s shout from the loo.

He looks almost panicked when Charlie glances up at him. And he’s blushing. It’s just been a hug. A nice, comforting, good-smelling hug.

“I-” His voice cracks a little before he starts again. “I’ll take care of Evie.”

Charlie can barely nod, so fast Tom is off of the sofa and power-walking to the bathroom.

And Charlie immediately misses the warmth - his warmth. She can still feel Tom’s fingers on her back and the soft fabric of his button down against her cheek.

She sighs, leaning against the back of the sofa with her side, curling her arms around her knees that are pressed against her chest.

She’ll just hug herself now.

She closes her eyes, Tom’s and Evie’s voices lulling her in a little. And then images flash in her brain, of children and their families.

With a gasp she opens her eyes again. She’s never going to get any sleep like that.

It seems that Tom is gone an eternity, and he’s not only taken all the warmth with him but also what little comfort she so desperately needs.

Finally, when Charlie has begun rocking herself a little to keep from falling apart, she hears footsteps.

Tom stands in the doorway, a sleepy Evie tucked against his side in a one-armed grip. She’s seen this a dozen times before, but today she feels different about it. She wants to be part of the domestic scene that’s so reassuringly normal.

Better yet, she wants an alternative universe where she can get up and join them and where Tom will drape the other arm around her to pull her close. Where he’ll drop a small kiss on her head and ask her if she wants to tuck their child into bed with him.

“Charlie…do you want to join us? It’s a bit late and Evie wants her bedtime story and…I…thought maybe you’d like to stay with us? Soak up a bit of calm?”

For a moment, she can only blink stupidly and wonder whether she’s so worn out that she’s hallucinating. Tom’s offer is so close to what she’s just wished for that she doubts her ears. But he’s standing there looking hopeful and hesitant at the same time, and then Evie holds out a hand and adds, “Charlie, come read with us.”

And before she knows it, she’s off the couch and moving on wobbly legs.

“Yes. Oh yes, please.”

Tom smiles a little despite his concern for the normally bubbly woman, who staggers towards them now. He hopes Evie doesn’t get too invested with Charlie (though, it is a little late for that now), but how she reaches out her hand now seriously makes him proud.

When they’ve brushed Evie’s teeth and said goodnight to Boots, his daughter was all in for the idea of Charlie joining the bedtime story.

So they walk to Evie’s room, Charlie next to him with one hand holding on to his daughter’s.

When they reach the room, Evie insists on Charlie joining on the bed. So, their good Samaritan lies down on one side of the small bed while Evie climbs in next to her.

They leave a small spot for Tom on the edge at least. Evie looks mighty proud of herself for that.

He smiles. It looks so domestic. Much more than what it’s looked like in the past year. But maybe this is not the time to think about that.

“What do you want me to read, little one?”

“ _Elmer_ , please.”

Tom suppresses a sigh and tries not to roll his eyes. He knows that one by heart by now, Evie still insists to see the pictures, though.

But when he hears a chuckle from the bed and realises it indeed comes from the woman and not from the child on the bed, he decides a little suffering through the story is worth it.

* * *

Charlie wills herself to relax as Tom begins to read, his voice somehow dropping into a special register and tone for storytelling. She can see he’s barely even looking at the words, reciting them while he holds the colourful pictures of the patchwork elephant out for his daughter to see.

She half-smiles at Evie eagerly naming the colours along when Tom ‘reads’, “Elmer was different. Elmer was patchwork. Elmer was yellow and orange and red and pink and purple and blue and green and black and white.”

There’s something so innocent about the story, and something so soothing about Tom’s way of reading that Charlie can almost hear her muscles relax and feel her eyelids droop.

By the time Elmer met other animals, Evie has snuggled up to Charlie with a content little sigh, so full of trust and affection that it tugs on Charlie’s heart.

Her gaze meets Tom’s over the child’s head, and suddenly there’s this strange connection, this sense of belonging.

Her green eyes draw Tom in suddenly. Or maybe it’s not exactly “suddenly”. But something about this woman in a bed with him and his daughter does things to him.

As well as the way her eyes lit up when Evie snuggled up to her.

And now, by all means, he can’t look away. He’s sure Evie is sleeping, because with the pause in the story that he’s creating at the moment, the little one would be protesting and demanding for him to continue, if she was awake.

He needs to clear his throat before he can speak. Something that’s only happened when he was too emotional during this past year. He doesn’t know what’s the cause now. Can’t be those green eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

Charlie nods, though only a little. “Better.”

It’s not okay, but he doesn’t expect her to be anywhere near okay today. So, he simply nods as well.

He’s also still drawn to Charlie’s eyes, no matter how tired they look. And then he registers something else.

While Charlie looks back at him she also swallows heavily and licks her lips.

And suddenly - really “suddenly” this time - Tom’s heart speeds up, his mouth goes dry and it’s getting really warm inside Evie’s room. And inside his belly.

What the fuck?

Can your body change from exhausted but on the brink of sleepy relaxation to all senses on alert and strangely yearning in a millisecond? Because that’s exactly what Charlie’s body seems to have done.

It isn’t the least bit logical. Or is it? Well, there may have been a time or two–or three or four–when she’s had…thoughts about Tom. But this is reality. Things like this don’t happen. Or do they?

She doesn’t know a thing anymore. But really, how’s a girl supposed to know things when she’s surrounded by domestic bliss mixed with Tom’s unique and intoxicating scent and those currently very blue and a tiny bit grey eyes?

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and in response, Tom’s throat works convulsively and his jaw clenches.

Was he that close before? Has she moved? Has he moved?

Why can she feel his breath gust softly over her face? Why is Evie’s room so warm?

She  _does_  feel his breath on her cheek, doesn’t she? So one of them must have moved.

To be fair, Charlie doesn’t know anything in this moment. Just that a little sigh escapes her involuntarily.

And that she’s turned to the side a bit as well as Tom has. And that nobody’s said a word for quite some time and they both obviously don’t mind.

And then Tom’s nose bumps hers. Brushes hers. Tom seems to take a big breathe and Charlie does the same. Breathing deeply, Tom’s scent swirling around her, she realises that this is even better than those times she’s imagined this.

‘This’ being the build up to a kiss.

Holy hell.

Everything’s a bit like in a dream.

Or a book.

Or even a movie.

Hah, Tom almost grins at that. But only almost. He’s too caught up in the moment to think properly, much less do anything against that pull he’s feeling from somewhere deep inspide.

And so instead of questioning it or fighting it, he acts upon it and finds himself nuzzling Charlie’s face softly.

God, she smells nice, even on a bad day. He could joyfully spend an hour just wallowing in her welcoming scent. But Charlie makes a little anticipatory sigh, and she’s so close…

…and so Tom brushes his lips butterfly-light across her cheek and down until they meet hers.

It’s like tiny little shocks on her lips. Tiny ones, but lots of them. So many that Charlie can barely suppress a moan.

Tom’s lips feel warm against hers though they’re almost not touching. But they make Charlie’s lips all hot and cold at the same time.

It’s a strange feeling and yet very, very comfortable.

“Thank you,” she sighs against Tom’s lips and almost wants to slap herself a second later. ‘Thank you’, what a stupid thing to say. So, she wants to withdraw, but Tom mumbles something she can’t quite understand and suddenly she’s afraid they’d lose this feeling.

So, she leans forward a little, pressing her own lips firmer onto Tom’s mouth and just enjoys.

Enjoys a kiss with Tom Hiddleston. She definitely didn’t see that one coming.

Goodness, he definitely didn’t see that one coming.

He doesn’t even know why he kissed Charlie. It just felt like the perfect thing to do…and it still feels rather perfect.

But something has changed about the kiss. It started out…well, he has no idea what it started out as. Wanting to comfort her? Feeling drawn to her? Sharing a silent moment of connection? And now…

Now Charlie is pressing her soft mouth more firmly against his and it’s making tingles shoot up and down his spine that Tom hasn’t experienced in ages–well, in months. Totally without his conscious decision, his lips part a little, as do hers.

His hands itch to be in on the fun. Should he? Touch her? And then?!

And then he does. Touch her. As their lips both part and he feels Charlie’s tongue softly and slowly against his, Tom moans and then softly touches Charlie’s cheek.

It’s slow and deliberate and he can’t really concentrate on anything else than Charlie’s lips, the soft skin of her cheek and her neck - where he buries his fingers in her hair a little - as well as the little soft sighs she’s making.

He’s possibly making some of his own as well.

The last time he’s felt like this was a long time ago. When you’ve been in a relationship for that long, you don’t only share these sensual kisses. Sometimes it’s just a kiss goodbye or a small kiss hello.

But he knows for sure, the last time he’s felt anything similar to this was with, “Emily.”

Suddenly, the kiss stops and Tom opens his eyes that he’s closed without realising. Charlie swallows and stares at him.

“What?” she asks.

What?

Did he just…?!

Charlie stares, partly because she’s kind of been in a trance and partly because she just can’t believe this has happened. All of it. The kiss, and Tom calling her by his late wife’s name.

Holy hell, he really did do that?!

Judging by the look of dawning horror on his face, he did.

It hurts, a sudden stab somewhere inside that’s like a needle poking at the balloon of her joy to make it burst. She can almost hear it, the popping sound of dashed hopes.

But then something changes in Tom’s face, and she watches in wonder as he goes through at least a dozen emotions in the time it takes her to haul in a trembling breath.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Well, points for getting the name right this time.

Before she can react–how?!–Tom forges on, his hand still cradling the nape of her neck. “Not for the kiss. For…you know. It’s…complicated.”

Huh, that’s a bit of an understatement.

“Complicated?” she whispers. “Yeah, it would seem so.”

He winces and great, now Charlie actually feels guilty for being disappointed. He’s not sorry for the kiss, he’s said. So. That’s good surely?

“I’m-” But he stops himself and shakes his head. “I won’t apologise again. That wouldn’t be fair. Charlie, you’re the first woman I kissed since… since…”

“Emily.” She can’t help herself even when she sees Tom’s face contort.

“Yes. And you’re great. You know that, I don’t even have to tell you. But it hasn’t even been a year.”

He looks sad and Charlie feels sad again. But at least this manages to distract her from everything else.

They’re still in their weird embrace and are whispering because Evie’s asleep in the middle of the bed. It makes the situation almost funny. Of course they’d have a kiss like this.

Tom resists the urge to fidget because he’d probably fall off the bed then. There’s something in Charlie’s gaze that makes his heart ache, but also so much understanding and still so much exhaustion that he wants to kick himself.

How did they make it to this absurd moment? How many even absurder moments will they share?

Before he can pull himself together, Evie stirs and he holds his breath. Her lids droop open a fraction and one hand blindly roots around.

“Daddy?” she asks. It’s so low and blurred it barely sounds like a word.

“Yes, sweetheart?” His hand automatically goes to her head, stroking softly so her eyes fall close again.

“‘s Cha’ly s’ill ‘ere?”

His heart does that squeezing thing again as his gaze darts to Charlie’s face. “Yes, Evie, she’s still here.”

At the same time he’s answering, Charlie reaches for Evie too and their fingers brush briefly before she pats his daughter’s shoulder gently.

Evie, more asleep than awake, smiles a little. “Tell ‘er to stay. Want Charlie.”

Oh. Tom’s eyes widen, just as Charlie’s do.

Well, she is kind of tired. Not kind of. Tired to her bones if Charlie’s honest.

But she can’t make decisions simply based on being tired and the mumblings of a little girl more asleep than awake, right? Right.

Or maybe not, because when Charlie looks back to Tom he looks like he wants to ask her something.

“What is it?” Charlie whispers.

“I don’t know how much of this Evie will remember in the morning. But you’re so tired, Charlie, and she’ll be so mad if you’re gone.”

“So?”

“Do you want to stay? In the guestroom of course.”

Oh.

Weirdly, it feels right to ask Charlie this. Well, because he’s doing it to keep his daughter happy and make sure she won’t faint from exhaustion. Right? Yes, that.

She gives him a long stare, and he can almost hear her tired brain cells tying themselves into knots to think this through.

He’s almost given up when she nods once.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, I’ll stay. This time. Because…”

It’s his turn to nod. “Because.”

Tom shoots a look at Evie, who’s out cold. “Give me a moment to get the room ready, will you? I’ll be back in a jiffy. Try not to fall asleep and roll off the bed in the meantime.”

He grins, but it’s only half a joke, and her slow answering grin tells him she understands.

It really does feel nice to care for her.

Tom gingerly gets off the bed, sets the forgotten storybook down and leaves the room to check things in the guestroom down the corridor. Everything seems fine, so he returns quickly–and stops dead in the doorway. Despite his ‘warning’, Charlie has fallen asleep on the bed, slumped a little and looking oddly as if she belongs right there.

Something shifts inside Tom’s chest, and he rubs it absently before crossing the room. He’s acting on autopilot, watching himself bend and grunt a bit, tugging until he’s finally managed to pull Charlie into his arms. She doesn’t even wake when he lifts her, juggles her weight a bit and walks back to the guestroom with her in his hold.

It’s a little difficult to put the covers aside with a woman in his arms, but he’s done that once or twice before.

When he puts her down, Charlie mumbles a bit, but it’s nothing he can understand. So, he bends down to at least take off her shoes. Everything else looks comfortable enough to sleep in it.

Not that he’s checked that out. Also, he shouldn’t undress her anyway. They’re friends, but not  _that_  close.

Something shifts in his chest again.

Tom covers her with a blanket and just when he wants to move away, Charlie snuggles into it and holds on to Tom’s hand a bit.

“Than’ you,” she mumbles and he’s not even sure if Charlie is awake. Still, it does something to his heart. And his head.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back, tugging his hand away carefully.

When he’s closed the door and slowly walks to Evie’s room to turn off the light and then to the living-room to clear up and maybe watch a little TV - it is barely after 8 p.m. after all - Tom can’t help but feel like he’s not going to get much sleep tonight.

He’s got lots to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, for anyone who wants visuals, you can find the stories and the face claims for Han and Charlie on tumblr: titrianddevikawrite.tumblr.com


End file.
